Time
by Starlightlovesya123
Summary: New Year's Eve and Wally's sick of the questions flying through his mind. He's sick of rolling into bed at night, wondering about her, worrying about her. Now his mentor wants to kill him, the JLA has gone insane, and Savage is back. Yet here she is.


_If I live through this,_ he thinks, _I'm gonna kiss her._

It's a ridiculous thought, of course. A very _Wally _thought. Especially at a time like this, when he should be worried about the state of his uncle and not the affinity of Artemis' lips.

But he can't help himself. Sure, he's been focused. He's been focused this whole time, studying his surroundings, figuring out that the Team is only still alive because the JLA is being controlled. Limited. Manipulated by Vandal Savage and a kid who happens to be a Lord of Chaos.

But he's also been distracted. He's been increasingly aware of Artemis' presence, tediously conscious of how close she is, of her positioning and movements.

It's time he stops flat-out denying it.

He's intoxicated by her. He's fascinated by her. She's the only woman he's ever met who's made him like this. Who makes him nervous. Who makes him angry. Who throws off his cool demeanor, rips it off like a painful blister, and challenges him to retaliate. But he doesn't know how to retaliate; not with her.

She's the only one he doesn't _get_. He can't predict her. He doesn't know where she'll move next, what she'll say next, what arrow will sling from the heart of her bow. And he hates that about her.

But, Jesus, he loves it too.

Wally leans back and lets her string an arrow, watches her elbow pull back and let loose the cord. It zips forward, screeching through the air, and hooks itself into the spotless steel of the wall.

He hears Kaldur say, "Hold on," somewhere in the back of his mind. But Wally's already grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her chest so that his hands grip her bow.

_Holding_, he and Artemis think. In perfect synchrony too. At any other time, he might laugh. It's rare that him and Artemis agree on _anything_.

But this is different. He knows that.

Kaldur pulls, and the giant steel door opens. Space looms beyond. The world disappears.

It's impossible to keep his eyes open. The cosmic blackness sucks all the air out of the room, pulling cargo and tossing papers. He hears the sound of his uncle blasting forward, trying to beat the wind, shoes slipping on the floor. He hears Artemis gasp for breath, but he doesn't see her; he just feels her shoulder against his chin, as he grits his teeth and holds on.

The two of them groan, as they're lifted off the ground, their hair flying backward and their muscles straining. Space bites at their ankles, threatening to tear the clothes right off of their bodies, as their knuckles turn white. A crate smashes into the wall, horrifically close to Wally's leg, and _Hold on, just keep holding on._

For a brief second, a brief flash of a moment, Wally realizes that this is the closest he's been to Artemis since he carried her through Bialya.  
Then the air stops and the door closes and he's back to being _himself _again, not a weird sentimental version who craves Artemis' skin. He falls to the ground, jumps forward, inserts the Curotech into the JLA members. Including his uncle.

Artemis comes to stand by his side, looking down at Barry's exhausted figure. Unconscious. Vulnerable. Wally almost feels like hiding him from Artemis. But then he looks up and meets her eye, and she's asking him something. Her mouth doesn't move and her lips make no sound, but she's asking him something.

_You okay? You ready?_

In other words, _He's going to be fine, Wally. Get it together._

He nods. Her face relaxes.

They run. He runs with her, sweat pouring down her cheeks. Her arms are pumping back and forth, all olive skin and blonde hair. She inhales in short puffs, as she struggles to keep up with him. But she doesn't slow down or let down. She runs along with him, even though he's only barely jogging. She keeps up with him.

God, she's distracting. Infuriating.

He needs to just get it over with. He needs to just kiss her.

Maybe if he kisses her, he'll be disgusted, and then he can finally stop thinking about her when he goes home in the evenings. Maybe if he kisses her, he'll feel like less of a coward, and then he can brag to Robin about the way she tastes. Sweet, savory, full taste, he bets. _I finally kissed her, man. Told you I would. _

Maybe if he kisses her, he'll feel in control again.

Maybe if he kisses her, she'll punch the smile right off his face.

Maybe if he kisses her, he'll only care for her more than he already does.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Wally hates maybes. He hates magic mysteries and unconcluded stories. He wants cold, hard facts. Artemis holds the facts, the answers to his problems, but she skirts around him with mocking lashes and smooth, long thighs.

She steals a glance at him, as they run. Her eyes are dark—like pumice or metal—but she smiles at him. A genuine one, this time. No slyness or smirk.

It's worth it, he realizes. Whatever happens, it's worth it.

They race into the main entranceway. Kaldur's waiting, and Red Tornado's in pieces on the ground, but he's talking. Telling them the day is saved and they're heroes and all that jazz.

And when the computer announces it's a new year, he quits denying it. He shoves away the flimsy, irritating patches of doubt. He stops being a coward, afraid of losing control. He isn't going to _get_control. Not from Artemis. No, she's more of a man than he'll ever be.

His own little spitfire, who won't let him get away with nothing.

He lifts her up, like he did in Bialya, one arm under her knees and the other around her waist.

And he kisses her, right there. In front of God and everybody. She doesn't resist him; she doesn't pull away or squirm or slap him. It's like she was expecting it. She leans her forehead against his, and there's genuine relief on her face. He never expected that. For _her _to be relieved, for _her _to be happy too.

A whole train of teenage mini make-outs begin—Megan and Conner, Robin and Zatanna, even Kaldur and Raquel—but Wally couldn't care less. His eyes are closed. His lips are opening, and he tastes her, and she's sweet and savory and full. Everyone in the room is kissing, but Wally couldn't care less.

He started it.

* * *

And he proceeds to start just about everything else. He pops the question first, getting grass stains on his knee as her pumice-eyes turn blue in the sunlight and she says yes. They have a daughter first, which still makes Wally laugh, because it was something of an accident and it's the best accident of his life. Diana's a beauty. Gorgeous, gorgeous baby, strawberry blonde hair and those perfect full lips.

Then they build a house—Artemis refuses to buy one—and have their son, Will. After that traumatic experience—Will's a preemie, and he scares Artemis halfway to death—she refuses to have any more children. For a while, she refuses even to sleep with Wally. It's then that he sees a deeper part of her, the part that never wants to be her father, that never wants to steal or murder. She felt responsible for Will's prematurity. She thought she almost killed her son.

He touches her more gently, from that point further.

Time passes, as it always does, and Will's suddenly ten years old. Wally started that too—the days of reminiscing, the days of fear, the days when he realizes he's in his 40s and life is halfway over.

Sitting with Will helps him feel young again.

Tonight, Will is crying, which is an unusual occurrence. Typically he's tough as nails, the kind of boy who wants to win every football game, every race, if only to impress his companions. He didn't want his sister to mock his tears, so he retreated to his room.

Will is crying over a girl. He's ten years old, he's crying over a _girl_, and he's absolutely ashamed of himself.

He sniffles lightly, looking up at his father with puffy red eyes. He tells Wally his story, how he met this girl on the basketball team—little girl with pigtails and hazel eyes—and they ate ice cream together after practice one day, and she was really funny, Dad, _really _funny, and she tried bites of his Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough while he took a taste of her Cake Batter. And she was super pretty, Dad, like _Mom's_ kind of pretty, and Will's wanted to kiss her ever since, but her dad's always been around and he doesn't look much like the type who likes boys kissing his daughter. And Will's been kinda avoiding her since, but he saw her at the grocery store, Dad, and he ran over to say hi, and he realized he ran _way_too fast, and then he got all nervous, 'cause he can't show her his powers! But he can't even think straight around her, Dad!

Wally sits there and listens to this whole spiel, trying not to laugh at the irony. He can't help but be amused; it's like history repeating itself. Wally and Artemis, Will and the girl on the basketball team.

_I've been there once, kid. I know how ya feel._

Will finishes and knots his fingers into his hair, frustrated beyond comprehension. Wally lets him sit for a moment, as he takes his first spoonful of the complicated world of _women_. He waits. Then Will lifts his face again, stares his dad in the eye.

"What was yours like? What did you do?"

Wally pretends not to understand. "What was what like?"

"Your kiss, Dad! Your first kiss with mom! What did you do?"

Will asks this question as if it's the most vital thing in the universe. The answer to all his problems. And Wally can't blame him. The way his Dad kissed his Mom for the first time _was_pretty excellent.

So he leans back, fetches a pillow, gives it to Will. Scratches his head, pretends to wrack his brains.

"Well, lemme think," he starts. "This was, like, some 20 years ago or something. I don't remember it that well."

A noise by the doorway startles both of them.

"BS," Artemis says, leaning against Will's bookshelf, smiling. She's just walked in, but Wally has a feeling she's been listening for a while.

"Yeah, okay, that's BS. I remember it pretty well," Wally admits. He grins.

"So go on, tell him." She gestures towards their son, and goes back to leaning against the shelf, her arms crossed. Listening.

Wally turns back to Will, who seems to be anticipating the single greatest moment of his existence. It's a perfect hook for Wally, sets him into story-telling mode.

And besides.

It's a story he loves to tell.

"Well, let's just say your mother and I didn't always adore one another," Wally begins. Will crosses his legs and folds his arms over a pillow. Also listening. Learning. "But that all changed when..."

The three of them talk until Will's hanging to consciousness by a thread. God knows how they take so long explaining one moment in time, but it's that kind of moment. Hard to explain, because it was so unpredictable. Wally and Artemis were not the likely couple. They were the odd man out.

They tuck Will in, check on Diana and turn off her nightstand light. She fell asleep reading again, some science fiction story Dick gave her.

They go back to their room, to the bed they share, and close the blinds, turn off the lights. They both fake sleep. They're clever: they even out their breathing, keep their eyes closed, relax every muscle in their bodies. But they know each other too well. Sleep is obvious in a marriage such as theirs—Wally usually drools when he sleeps, while Artemis' bangs always fall into her face. Neither of them want to sleep. Tonight isn't a night for sleep.

Ten minutes pass, then fifteen.

Then Wally reaches over, wraps one arm under her knees and the other around her waist.

"I'm gonna take you to Happy Harbor now," he says. Softly. His voice blends with the breeze coming in through the window.

She doesn't object. Dick's on patrol tonight; he'll watch over the kids.

They're out of the house in an instant, the sheets on their bed rippling from Wally's backdraft.

And he runs with Artemis in his arms, just like they did in Bialya. Just like they did on New Year's Eve, when Wally's arrogant mind allowed him a moment of reprieve.

They run for miles. Artemis stares up at the sky with the moon on her face. She says nothing. The wind speaks for her. Wally's legs burn but it's a good burn; his arms ache but it's an ache he knows.

He'll kiss her when they get to Happy Harbor.

It's time.


End file.
